


What Was, Is, and Will Be

by CaryceJade



Series: Past, Present, and Future [1]
Category: Endeavour (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Magical Realism, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaryceJade/pseuds/CaryceJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU after Neverland, and crossover with Harry Potter Universe.</p><p>In the months after Neverland, Morse, Jakes, and Strange have become friends. Then Morse's childhood friend, Carrie Davis, moves to Oxford with her cousins and the younger of the two brother's daughter. </p><p>In which Morse is a wizard, but few know it, Carrie, who is a witch, and Jakes' lives finally intersect, Strange is a good friend, and Thursday discovers that every station has at least one magical staff member.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Is That Over There?

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own this in any way, shape, form, or fashion. Also, I’ve only seen through Series Two, so this will be AU after that point. This assumes that everything got cleared up with Morse’s innocence fairly quickly, so he's back at work, Thursday has recovered nicely, Bright has finally gotten a little bit of a clue in spite of being a product of his time, Strange has finally figured out how and when kissing up is appropriate and really is a good friend, and Jakes, well, he's not in a good place, though he's putting up a good front. (Morse isn't fooled one bit.) There are several OCs, including some of my OCs from Reassembly over on ffn, though at much younger ages, obviously, as well as their cousin, Carrie Davis.
> 
> I tweak ages here and there, and some are an estimate, but that is the beauty of AU--you can take canon, turn it upside down, and shake it.
> 
> I am not British, so I'll probably mess that up, but I will obviously get my OCs' regional speech right, since I'm from the same general area.
> 
> Onward to the Endeavour/Harry Potter Universe crossover nobody asked for.

It was a typical Friday night, and Peter was at the pub with his so-called mates. In reality, he did not want to be here, smoking, drinking, and laughing at some inane joke that really wasn't funny at all. To say the least, he was incredibly bored.

Only half-paying attention to the people around him, he started scanning the pub, hoping to find anyone that would give him some excuse to slip out. 

Within minutes, he had spotted Morse and Strange sitting in a corner booth talking to a woman. He couldn't make out much of her in the dim light, but what he could see wasn't bad to look at. She had dark hair and a heart-shaped face, and judging by how she was interacting with Morse and Strange, there probably wasn't anything romantic going on, just two blokes taking a friend out. He decided to try to catch her eye by the end of the night, then maybe he could sound Morse out about her later on, if she seemed the type that would be interested in him.

Morse had become a surprisingly good friend in the wake of the whole Blenheim Vale incident. He sometimes would fuss, in his own unique, awkward way, if he thought Peter wasn't eating enough or driving himself too hard in an effort to re-bury all the memories the incident had caused to resurface. Occasionally, they would drink together in one or the other’s flat and talk, things sometimes coming out in those conversations that neither had told anyone that they called work friends. Frequently, at least one time out of three, if not more often, Strange joined in, his bluff, blustery manner hiding the fact that he genuinely cared about those he called friends. Genuineness, whether awkward or blustery, was not something Peter was used to.

Okay, the woman was laughing at something either Morse or Strange had said, a smile flashing across her face. When she looked up after taking a sip of her drink, their eyes met for just a moment, and she flashed him a smile, then looked away, responding to something Morse had said to her. She laughed, shaking her head, then said something that had both Morse and Strange laughing.

He had the creeping feeling that he might be sounding Morse out sooner than he’d planned.

* * *

”...then Professor Dumbledore changed his robes to bright yellow to match!”

Carrie laughed, shaking her head. “Did you see him at the St. Mungo’s Benefit this year, Dev? He decided that salmon paisley was a good idea!” 

Both Endeavour and Jim burst out laughing. Jim had only met the man once, when his sister started attending Hogwarts, but that one meeting had left an impression. 

“Dev, do either you or Jim know that man over there?” Carrie asked quietly. _There's something about him. ___

“Which one?” Endeavour asked quietly, noting the look that crossed her face. Intrigue, plus the look that had always crossed her face when she was trying to figure something out.

“Tall, dark-haired, third from your left. Standing at the bar doing a pretty good job at pretending to enjoy himself.”

Endeavour scanned the crowd, zeroing in on the bar. Third from the left, dark hair _...oh, sweet Merlin._ He took a swallow of his drink. “Yes, Jim and I both know him. His name is Peter Jakes, and we work together.” His face turned a little solemn as he noticed Carrie furrow her brow. “What are you reading off of him?” Carrie was one of the best judges of people he knew, and was usually spot-on with her observations. She had despised Susan, for example.

“He really doesn't want to be there, for one. He’s only minimally interacting with the people he came in with, like his mind in somewhere else.” She bit her lip, unsure of whether to say the next couple of observations out loud. _In for a knut, in for a galleon._ “He’s troubled, and at some point, he's been hurt very deeply.” 

Endeavour and Jim both nodded gravely. They both knew that Peter did not really much care for the people he usually went to the pub with, finding them boring and insipid, though occasionally good for a laugh. He was more open with them in private. As for the other aspects of her observations, Endeavour gave a mental sigh. “You're right on all counts, Carrie, but that's not my story to tell.” Jim nodded, suddenly much more interested in his drink.

Carrie nodded and gave a grim smile. “So I take it you both are friends with him?”

“It's a recent development,” Endeavour said quietly.

“We barely spoke until a few months ago,” Jim added. 

Carrie winced. That had been a mess until Thursday had been able to tell his tale of the events, plus various other people had been able to prove that Endeavour could not have committed that murder. His wand had even been inspected and apparation logs had been subpoenaed as evidence. He had not apparated, nor had he been a side-along for anyone else. She took a deep breath. “So, is he seeing anyone?” 

Endeavour gave her a searching look, then said, “No, he's not. I’ll mention you the next time I talk to him and see if he's interested.” 

“Thank you, Dev,” she replied, smiling.


	2. In Which Questions Are Asked, and Introductions Are Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Carrie are introduced, and Endeavour is a little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own this.

It was a little before noon the next day when Endeavour was startled by a knock at the door. He figured that it was either Peter or Jim, so he opened the door.

“Come in, Peter,” he said, looking at him with some measure of concern. He looked nervous. As soon as he closed the door, he asked, “What's wrong?”

“The girl you and Jim were with at the pub last night, who is she?”

Endeavour smiled slightly. “Her name’s Caroline Davis, but she goes by Carrie. I grew up with her, and we went to school together.”

“Is she seeing anyone?” He looked so nervous that Endeavour was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to hug him.

“No, she's not.” He did actually smile at this point. “She actually asked Jim and me the same thing about you.”

Peter brightened a bit at that. “She did?” He bit his lip, then said, “Does she live around here, or is she just visiting someone?”

“She moved here a couple of weeks ago with two of her cousins from the States, Dale and Everett Latham, and Everett’s daughter, Amy.”

“Would they be...averse to the idea of me taking her out sometime? If she wanted to, of course?”

“Probably not. Dale’s very quiet, but a good man. Everett would be the one to let you know that if you hurt her, it would not end well for you. He’s a widower, raising a four-year-old daughter. That's part of why Carrie's living with them, to give Amy a positive female influence.”

“You say you grew up together?” Peter now knew some things about Endeavour’s background, but there was still something he wasn't being told that he couldn't quite figure out. It wasn't something bad or malicious, but something that couldn't seem to be easily discussed.

“Yes.” Endeavour's expression grew slightly wistful. “She and her older brother, Phillip were my only real friends growing up. He was two years ahead of us in school. She and I were always at the top of our classes, so she is very intelligent. She was always much better with people, though.” 

“You didn't tell her about…” He had no idea how he would tell someone he was in a relationship with about Blenheim Vale. Perhaps that was why he had never let anyone in any of his previous attempts at a relationship close enough to worry about that possibility.

“No. She suspects _something_ happened to hurt you, but no specifics. Carrie can read people as easily as I do a crossword. I just said that it wasn't my story to tell, and Jim suddenly found his drink to be very interesting.” He looked up and met the slightly taller man’s eyes. “If the time comes that you decide to tell her, she won't think any less of you. She’ll be livid at Wintergreen, Deare, and all the others, but not you. Never you. That, I do know about her. Something her father made sure that she and Phillip, and by extension, me, knew growing up was ‘A man as’ll hurt a woman or a child ain't no man a’tall.’ He and Carrie's mother were from the States, North Carolina specifically, but emigrated here shortly after they married.” 

Peter bit his lip, then started to say something else, when someone knocked at the door. When Endeavour went to open it, he was not surprised to see Carrie.

“Come in, we were just talking about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” she responded with a wry smile and an arched eyebrow.

“No, I was just telling Peter here about how you made all the bathrooms flood in sixth year.” He smirked.

“Dev! That wasn't _completely_ my fault! If I recall correctly, _you_ were the one who put too much lacewing in the potion. It was just supposed to flood one bathroom so that the final would be delayed, not the whole school! And Charlus was supposed to distract Slughorn, but decided to stare at Dorea instead.” She pouted a bit.

“All right, I _will_ admit to that, just to avoid remembering the detention we got for it."

“It was worth it.” They both laughed.

Peter was smart enough to realize what Endeavour was doing; giving him an idea of Carrie’s personality. She had a nice laugh that made her blue eyes light up into an intense cerulean, and obviously had a sense of humor, and there was no malice in her banter with Endeavour.

“Anyway,” Endeavour said, “Carrie, this is Peter Jakes. Peter, this is Carrie Davis.” He made a point of looking at his watch. “I’ve got to run to the store, so if you leave, lock up behind you.” He made a hasty exit. 

Carrie raised her eyebrows at Peter, mouth twitching in an abortive laugh. “ _That_ was subtle.” 

“He possesses _no_ subtlety when he's trying to be subtle,” Peter remarked wryly, smirking at her.

“I know that far too well. He pulled the same trick our last year of school to try to get Bilius Weasley to ask me to the Yule Ball.” 

“Will it work this time?” Peter asked, his heart in his throat.

“You know, I think it might.”


	3. Plans Go Awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrie and Peter's date goes nowhere near according to plan. Throw together a cute kid, accidental magic, and a bad physical reaction to unexpected mental contact, and you have a recipe for disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gawd, this has been the most difficult chapter to write. Nothing went where I planned it to at all. Everything from events taking a life of their own to characters deciding to show up early.
> 
> Trigger warnings for implied Child Abuse and neglect, and trigger warning for vomit.

Carrie was humming in front of the mirror and holding up dresses, debating which one to wear on her date with Peter. Her four-year-old cousin, Amy, was perched on the bed, watching her intently. 

“Should I wear the blue one or the yellow one, Amy?” she asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror. 

Amy made a show of pondering Carrie’s question. _If only she knew how much she looks like Joanna when she does that._ Amy’s mother, her cousin Everett's wife, Joanna, had died a little over two years ago. “Blue!” Amy burst out, grinning. 

“Blue it is,” Carrie said, putting on the dress and returning the yellow one to the closet. She then wound her hair up into a chignon and put a small pair of hoop earrings in her ears. 

_Please let everything go well tonight. I'm not sure how I’ll tell him about being a witch when the time comes, but, even if he doesn't take it well, I want this night to remember._

* * *

Peter walked down the street towards Carrie’s house. He was uncharacteristically nervous about his date with Carrie tonight. Deep down, he was terrified of saying or doing something to scare her off, or that she had just been being kind by agreeing to go out with him. Endeavour had assured him that was not in Carrie’s nature; that she agreed to go out with him because she was genuinely interested in him, and wanted to see if anything came of it. 

Approaching the house that Carrie had pointed out to him when he had walked her home a few days ago, he noted that there was a blue car parked outside. Endeavour had mentioned that she lived with two of her cousins and one of them’s daughter. _One or both of them must be home._ He knocked on the door. 

“Just a minute!” It was a male baritone with an American Southern accent, though not very broad. 

The door opened a moment later to reveal a tall, lean man with slightly long dark brown hair. “Come in. You must be Peter. Carrie’s just finishing getting ready.” He showed Peter into the house. “I’m Dale. Everett had a research project hold him up. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.” He observed the house, what he could see of it from the living room. Modest, simply decorated, though it was obvious that they hadn't been living here long. There was still a faint smell of paint. 

“Have a seat. Carrie shouldn't be much longer.”

It was barely two minutes later when Carrie came down the stairs, a red-haired girl trailing behind her. 

“I see you've met Dale,” Carrie said, smiling as Peter stood to meet her. “This is Everett's daughter, Amy.”

Peter had always felt awkward around children, especially young ones, but he held out his hand for Amy to shake. 

As she met his eyes and touched his hand, he was hit with the most unnerving sensation. It was like all of the horrible memories of Blenheim Vale were being pulled to the forefront of his mind. The beatings, the words, the… _other_...things, all of it. An involuntary gasp and shudder escaped him, and he saw that Amy was looking stunned, her eyes round with terror. 

He watched as Carrie knelt in front of Amy. He vaguely felt Dale’s hand on his shoulder, heard him asking if he were alright, but he was focused on Carrie and Amy. 

“What did you see?” Carrie asked gently, her hands on Amy’s shoulders. The child shook her head, tears streaming down her face, unable to form coherent words. “If you can't tell me, _show_ me. Pull it all to the front of your mind, just like I taught you.”

Peter watched as some sort of unspoken communication took place between Carrie and Amy. “Did that really happen, Aunt Carrie?” Amy asked Carrie in a small voice, looking far more stricken than any four-year-old should. 

Carrie, to Peter’s horror, nodded. “It did. A long time ago. There are bad people in this world, Amy, that hurt people just because they can. Now head on upstairs. Uncle Dale will give you something to help you sleep.”

“Come on, little one,” Dale said, extending his hand to Amy. She took it, and he led her up the stairs. 

As soon as Dale had gone, Carrie sighed heavily. “I wasn't planning on telling you this so soon, Peter.” Carrie was pacing anxiously. 

“Tell me what?” he asked. Based on what he just saw, it was pretty big, and not something easy to discuss. He vaguely wondered if it had anything to do with what Endeavour couldn't seem to discuss from his past. 

“You might want to sit down for this. It will change how you see a lot of things, and how you see some of the people around you. After I tell you, we can continue to explore whatever this connection is that we seem to have, or I can make you forget we ever met at all. Either way, this is going to be a difficult topic to discuss. We had best be sitting down for it.” She walked towards the couch, indicating for him to follow. 

As soon as they were seated on the couch, Carrie said, “Ordinarily, this is only something that my _kind_ , for lack of a better way of saying it, would tell someone they were intending to marry. That's how big what I am about to tell you is. Amy’s abilities, however, manifested themselves unexpectedly.” She drew in a deep breath. “Peter, regardless of what you’ve been told, magic exists. There is a whole independent society, in England, and throughout the world, of witches and wizards, with its own cultures, laws, and social rules.”

Peter’s mind was working overtime to make sense of the deceptively simple thing he had just been told. “And what just happened, that's part of that?” he asked hoarsely. 

Carrie nodded. “My family is unusually gifted in mind magics. Most wizarding families have some trait that they are known for. Amy apparently can see the pasts of people and objects that she comes into contact with. I can see possible futures, her father can sense if people are under the influence of mental magic, and all of us can enter the minds of others if we choose to do so without using the spell that most would have to use. We are taught to shield our minds from the thoughts and emotions of others as soon as our abilities manifest themselves. Otherwise, we would be driven insane by the onslaught of thoughts and emotions from those around us.”

Peter nodded, looking slightly disturbed. He would have been far more skeptical, and considerably more disturbed, had he not just had his encounter with Amy. “So you're a witch?”

Carrie nodded. “I am.”

“Does Morse know?”

“Yes. He has known since we were children.”

That made his mind draw some rather interesting conclusions, as he recalled that she and Morse had went through school together. “Morse is one, isn't he?”

“He is. We graduated Hogwarts, the wizarding school, together, and even tied for the highest scores in our year. Even though we were in different houses, he a Ravenclaw and I a Gryffindor, we managed to stay friends. Jim Strange knows about both Dev and me because his sister is currently a sixth-year student at the school.”

“Will Amy remember what she saw?” He dearly hoped not. It was hard enough reliving it himself, and he had been a few years older than Amy when it had actually happened to him. 

“She will, though her father, uncle, and I will teach her how to live with it.” She sighed, looking down at her hands, then meeting Peter's eyes again. “I hate that she has to learn that there are people in this world that do those things so early on, but that is a part of having the abilities we do; having to learn to live with the knowledge that what we see either has happened or will happen.”

He closed his eyes, sighing heavily. “I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”

Carrie cautiously reached out a hand, not wanting to startle him, and laid it on top of one of his. “Peter.” Her tone was quiet, but very firm. “Look at me.” She waited until he had met her eyes before she went on. “Peter, what happened to you was terribly wrong, and it was _not_ your fault. You were a _child. They_ were adults. _They knew better_.” Her eyes were boring into his as she emphasized the last sentence. “As for saying that you wouldn't blame me for never wanting to see you again, I could say the same thing. Magic tends to frighten people, or they think it's evil. Not only that, I have yet to tell you about the nature of my job.”

Peter looked at her, startled. She had just called him out on trying to push her away by saying that she could just as easily do the same thing. “You work?” While he was not completely against women working outside the home, especially if they were unmarried, it was still uncommon enough to jar him a bit. Granted, she was a few years older than him, if she were the same age as Endeavour, so her having a job didn't bother him as much as it might have otherwise.

“I do. I work as an auror, basically the wizarding equivalent of a police officer. I also have a mastery in Potions.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Your family, are they…”

“...Accepting of that?” She laughed softly. “Yes, they are. They're very supportive. My great-grandmother was one of the first female aurors when she finished training in 1606. Female aurors are not the same as a WPC at all. We are expected to go through the same training, pass the same courses, and be able to duel just as well as a male auror.”

All right, that _did_ shock him a little. “How long have you been an…auror?”

“Six years. I took an unconventional route, with my great-grandmother’s encouragement, and got a mastery in potions before I signed up for auror training. Auror training is nearly three years long, and I managed to get a mastery in potions in two years.”

“I’m guessing that's not easy?”

She shook her head, laughing lightly. “No. It typically takes at least three to four years or so. Carl, Dale and Everett’s older brother, missed my record by three weeks. Everett broke it by a month. It gave him something to focus on after Joanna died.”

Peter bit his lip. “How is he going to react to what happened?”

“Probably better than you’re thinking,” Dale said from the doorway. “For one thing, in spite of his appearance, my brother's probably one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet. If he _were_ to overreact a bit, Carrie and I would set him straight, but I know he won't. For one thing, he and I both remember too clearly what happened when his own abilities began to show.” He looked over at Carrie. “He’s on his way home now. I just got off the phone with him. I told him that he would need to get his old pensieve out for Amy to use. He got the hint.”

“Good.” Carrie smiled. “He’ll be here any minute, then. Do you want anything to drink or eat, Peter?”

“No, thank you.” He shook his head, drawing looks of concern from both Carrie and Dale as nearly all of the color drained from his face. He was so anxious that if he tried to eat or drink anything, he knew he would be seeing it again in a matter of minutes. He was so anxious that he just might throw up anyway. _That_ would be mortifying. 

And it was going to happen anyway, he realized as an intense wave of nausea washed over him, and he didn't know where the bathroom was, and he wasn't sure if he would make it if he did. He heard Carrie and Dale speaking, then a third, deeper voice from over near the doorway. All he made out was “...think we ought to call Carl? This looks like a pretty bad reaction to unexpected mind contact.” 

He felt Carrie's hand on his arm. “I think that would be best,” he heard her say, sounding as though she were far away. He then heard her utter a phrase that sounded completely foreign to him, then she said quietly, “There's a bin in front of you if you need it. You look like you're about to be sick.”

He only managed to nod slightly, the movement making him gag. He _really_ didn't want to be sick in front of Carrie. As soon as that thought entered his mind, the nausea seemed to increase exponentially, and he just barely got his head over the bin before he was violently sick. He dimly felt Carrie's hand on his back, gently rubbing circles, and he heard her saying things that he couldn't completely understand, but her tone was astonishingly kind and sympathetic, rather than repulsed. He wasn't used to this. Even after he had been sent on after Blenheim Vale, any care received during illness was indifferent at best. 

It was several minutes before he finally stopped, gasping for air and shivering as he was wracked by chills that caused Carrie to wrap the afghan from the back of the sofa around his shoulders to try to keep him warm. 

A bass voice belonging to, he assumed, Everett, quietly said, “Carl will be here any minute. How is he?”

“Not good,” Carrie said quietly. “It's a good thing I decided to tell him about us tonight after what happened with Amy. The idea of him trying to go through this alone…” She sounded thoroughly stricken by the thought. 

“Yeah, I wouldn't wish that on anyone.” Everett said. He then addressed Peter directly. “This ain't your fault, Peter, and you ain't done wrong by me or anyone else.”

It was at this point that Carl walked in. He wasn't quite as tall as his brothers, but he had a very brisk but kind manner. He gently examined Peter, making a point of telling him what he was going to do before he did it. He concluded by nodding sharply. 

“Definitely a _very_ bad reaction. More than likely, you're going to be pretty sick for the next couple of days. Do you live alone?” At Peter's nod, he looked extremely worried. 

“You're staying here,” Carrie said with finality. “We’ve got the room, and it wouldn't be a problem at all.”

Peter looked at her as surprised and skeptical as he could manage with as nauseous as he felt. She just smiled a genuinely kind smile. 

“We’ll go do up the guest room,” Dale said, grabbing Everett's arm and leaving the room. 

“I’m going to go get those potions that you're going to need, mostly headache potions and other mild pain potions. For some reason, anti-nausea potions don't help with this. Then I'm going to check on Amy. I know Dale gave her some Dreamless Sleep, but four is very young age to come into mental abilities, and it's tiring.” He laid a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder, then left the room. 

“Do you think, if I helped you, that you could make it down the hall to the guest room?” Carrie asked 

He shook his head, the movement making him feel even more nauseous. “Not yet.” He bent back over the bin, just in time to be sick again. 

“Just take your time,” Carrie said quietly as she helped him take a few sips of water. “There's no big hurry. We’ll try when you feel ready.”

It was nearly an hour, and with a dose of headache potion, before the nausea abated enough for him to dare to risk the walk down the hallway to the guest room. The walk made him sick again, but fortunately, the bathroom was next to the bedroom.

When he was finally seated on the bed, Carrie said, “Dale brought down some pyjamas. Would you like any help getting changed?” The question made two bright spots of color come up on her cheeks, which, to Peter, was probably the most amusing (and adorable) part of this entire godawful night. 

“I can manage,” he said, smiling just a little. 

“Just let me know if you need anything. I'll just be in the next room. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She smiled back at him and left, closing the door behind her. 

As he slowly changed into the borrowed pyjamas (which were a little large on him), Peter thought that, while this date might have been a disaster in every sense of the word, a second attempt might actually go right.  
(He was completely unaware that in the next room, Carrie was thinking the same thing.)


	4. Conversations and Other Such Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three different conversations over the course of a day reveal a great deal, including connections, how exactly does one get out of a big mess, and things that seem obvious after the fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All prior trigger warnings apply. 
> 
> Good Lord and Butter, this storyline is taking over my life. That's what I get for working on four stories at once. Fortunately, three of them take place in the same universe. 
> 
> Everett's distinctive quality is that he is extremely tall (approximately 6'8"), but he is a gentle giant.
> 
> Whoever came up with the headcanon about the name of Jakes' sister, I tip my hat to you.
> 
> While the First Wizarding War is not considered to officially begin until 1970, a war never springs up out of nowhere. There is always a buildup, until something happens to trigger active warfare.

Peter awoke to the disorienting sensation of waking up in an unfamiliar place, though he quickly remembered the events of the night before with a groan. He felt like he had been hit by a lorry that had then backed up for good measure. He had been sick off and on all night, vaguely remembering Carrie, and one time Dale, being there, but it was all a jumbled-up mess. 

Looking over, he saw a chair occupied by quite easily the tallest man he had ever seen, who had obviously awakened at his groan. “How’re you feeling?” the man asked quietly. 

It took Peter a moment to recall that this must be Everett. He understood now why Dale had used the phrase ‘in spite of his appearance’ the night before. “Awful.” That was perhaps an understatement. “Amy?”

Everett snorted, obviously of the same opinion on awful being an understatement. “I’d say so.” He waved a hand, a gentle smile on his face. “Amy’s alright. Still asleep when I checked on her about an hour ago. It’s only a little past eight, so she’ll probably sleep for another hour or so, since Dale gave her a dose of Dreamless Sleep.”

“I’m sorry that she had to see that,” Peter said, barely above a whisper. 

“That ain't your fault.” His tone was firm, brooking no argument. “Don't know what she saw yet, won’t ‘til I start teaching her how to use a pensieve and how to shield her mind, but I figure whatever happened to you was bad. You just happened to be the one that she was focused on when her abilities kicked in.” 

Peter still didn't completely believe him, but nodded. “Where’s Carrie?” He hoped that she was asleep, since he knew that she had been there almost every time that he had been somewhat aware the night before. 

“She got called in for a meeting about an hour ago. Said it should only take two, three hours at the most, even though Moody said it was important, and wouldn't wait ‘til Monday. Least, that's what he told her. Something about an issue that had escaped his attention, and he wanted to fix it as soon as he could. Carrie said he called Charlus Potter in too.” He looked thoughtful. “Now, if I were a betting man, I’d bet it has something to do with that mess Dev was in a few months back. He said then that he wanted to try to keep that sort of thing from happening again, at least on the wizarding end. There's also been some odd stuff going on all over, and he’s wanting to do different than his predecessor and actually _work ___with the muggle, non-magical, police, instead of both parties floundering.”

Peter nodded. He had wondered how they had managed to prove that Endeavour couldn't have killed Standish, even with him telling Bright that they had spoken that night before he went to Blenheim Vale, though he had been uncertain of the exact time due to how much he had been drinking that night, and Thursday telling his version of the events leading up to the death of Deare. “If you don't mind me asking, how _was ___that cleared up?”

Everett raised an eyebrow. “Well, the short version is that his wand was examined to determine the last dozen or so spells used. According to Carrie, they all were small things: basic cleaning charms, a couple of summoning charms, and two protection charms on someone else. Carrie said that he never would tell her who one of them was, and, while he told Moody when asked, he requested that the name be redacted, since the person didn't know he’d done it, which Moody agreed to, but the other was a child. Also, the Ministry apparation logs were subpoenaed, and they showed that he didn't apparate, nor did he side-along apparate with anyone else.” He scratched the back of his head. “I mean that he didn't instantly transport himself from one place to another that night, not did anyone else transport him, so there was no way that he could have killed that man, then gotten everywhere it was proven that he went.”

“That… actually makes sense.” If that was the short explanation, he couldn't imagine what the long explanation was. Besides, his head was starting to pound so much that the long explanation probably wouldn't have made a bit of sense to him. 

Everett seemed to notice his sudden discomfort, and asked, brow furrowing with concern. “You alright there?” 

“No.” He closed his eyes, as there suddenly seemed to be three of Everett. “Head started hurting again.”

Everett swore under his breath. “Do you think you'll be able to keep down some headache potion?” 

“I can try,” Peter ground out between clenched teeth. 

Within a moment, there was a vial in Everett’s hand, and he was helping Peter to drink the contents. The potion kicked in fairly quickly, and he was asleep again within minutes.

* * *

The next time that Peter woke up, he could tell that several hours had passed. For one thing, the shadows on the wall were different, and the other was that it was Carrie asleep in the chair this time. 

His head wasn't hurting too badly at the moment, so he took the opportunity to just _look ___at Carrie. Except for the night before, she was rarely still from what he had seen of her so far, so he wanted to remember this. Remember the strands of dark hair escaping the chignon that she tended to wear. (He still had no idea how long her hair actually was.) Remember the way her eyelashes brushed slightly flushed cheeks, how her lips were slightly parted in an almost-smile. Remember how her arms were crossed over her chest, hands finally still for just a moment. Remember the slightly strangely-cut maroon dress that she was wearing. He wanted to keep the image of her in repose in his head as long as he possibly could. Some people looked much younger asleep, and Carrie was one of them. In truth, she looked younger than he knew her to be when awake, but asleep, with responsibilities, cares, and worries swept away, she looked almost childlike.

He didn't want to wake her, but he needed to get to the bathroom, and he didn't trust himself to get there by himself without getting dizzy. “Carrie,” he said quietly, then a little louder, “Carrie. 

She woke up in an instant, unfolding long limbs, “Peter, what do you need?” 

“I need to get to the bathroom, and I don't trust my balance.” He _hated ___asking for help with a passion, but falling or passing out from dizziness would be worse, and would probably upset Carrie a great deal.

“All right, I’ll help you get there and back.” She helped him up, and they started slowly making their way towards the door. 

By the time they got to the doorway, he was leaning heavily on her, and was exhausted and half-sick from the effort. He just hoped that he could keep the nausea under control long enough to get into the bathroom about another dozen feet away. A shiver ran through him as the nausea intensified. 

Carrie immediately noticed him shiver. While Carl had warned them that Peter would probably be pretty sick off and on for a couple of days at least, with periods of being almost fine one minute, and dreadfully ill the next, she hated seeing anyone like this, ill and in pain. “Alright?” she asked as she saw him go even paler, his face taking on a distinct greenish colour. 

He shook his head almost imperceptibly, as though trying to avoid any sudden movements. “Just started feeling sick." 

“Do you think you can make it to the bathroom?” She figured that she would at least ask, though she expected the answer to be a negative. 

“Trying. Come on.” The words came from between clenched teeth. 

She raised her eyebrows and managed to guide him a few more feet before he clapped a hand over his mouth and pushed on, though she could feel his muscles jerking in the effort that he was making to not throw up. 

It surprised the hell out of her that they made it to the bathroom, though she had to hold him up as he threw up into the sink. She turned her back as he used the toilet, but made it clear that she would turn around in a heartbeat at even a hint of a problem. Had he not been feeling as badly as he did, Peter might have teasingly called her an alarmist. 

It took longer to make it back to the bedroom, but it fortunately went without incident, though they were both exhausted by the time they made it there. 

After she had gotten him situated in the bed as comfortably as he could be under the circumstances, and they both had rested for a few minutes, he said, “I’m sorry that you're having to…” 

“Do _not ___finish that sentence, Peter,” Carrie interjected with an intense look. “You are not an inconvenience or an imposition. You cannot help being sick, and I'm relieved that you're here, instead of trying to go through this alone.”

There was something in her eyes that made Peter feel that it would be wise to change the subject. He still didn't completely believe her, but she refused to budge on her opinion. So he asked, “What was the meeting about? Everett told me what he suspected when I was awake before." 

Carrie fixed him with a look that made it obvious that she knew what he was doing, but then gave a slightly devilish smile. “Moody wanted to talk to Charlus, Dorea, and me about starting up the liasons again, now that he's running the Auror Corps. He has reached out to most of the police stations, and most have been receptive. There's some strange things going on, mostly around London, but he's afraid that it will spread this way. So, to make a long story short, I am the liason for the Oxford area. I’m the person who is to be contacted if at any time magical involvement is suspected in a case, and I have to go to each station and be introduced to everyone, plus give a couple of lectures at each station on when to suspect magic was used in a crime.” She sighed. “Every station has at least one magical staff member, no matter what you do, but in general, only an inspector or higher can access that information. I can countermand any order that a wizarding staff member is given, but that's a privilege that I prefer not to utilise unless absolutely necessary." 

He had an absolutely astonished look on his face. “So you will be coming to the station?” He had a feeling that she would not tolerate the condescending way that female officers were treated by some people for very long. 

She nodded. “I’m scheduled to be there all day Tuesday. I have to meet with Bright on Monday morning. Tuesday, I have to give lectures and answer questions, basically covering seven years of defense material in one day.” She chuckled softly. “I need to warn Dev and Jim. It would be very cruel of me not to." 

Peter barked out a laugh. “So this is you warning me?” 

“Warning you and advising you to sit with Dev and Jim if at all possible. Dev is good at explaining things, and Jim knows some things about the wizarding world. Do you know anyone who is likely to make an idiot of themselves?" 

Peter thought for a minute. There were a couple of Inspectors that had a bad habit of sticking their foot in their mouth, and a couple of people that would have a hard time taking Carrie seriously solely because of her gender.”There are a few.” He looked worried, then asked, “How’s Amy?” He was extremely concerned about how what she saw when she had accidentally invaded his mind affected her. 

“She's doing well. Everett started teaching her how to begin to shield her mind today, beginning with learning to identify her own thoughts, emotions, and memories, and how to separate them from the ones belonging to others. That's the first thing, and the most important, that we’re taught.” She jumped as she heard the phone ring in the kitchen. A moment later, she heard Dale call her name. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said. 

True to her word, she was back a few minutes later. “That was Dev,” she said. “Apparently, he and Jim were worried when you didn't go by today and he couldn't reach you, so he called to see if I knew anything. He said that he’d stop by for a few minutes later on. I’d rather warn him about Monday and Tuesday to his face, unless Charlus told him first, which is entirely possible.” 

“I keep hearing that name mentioned. I’m assuming you were all friends in school?" 

Carrie nodded. “Only Charlus and I were in the same house. When you start your first year at Hogwarts, you’re sorted into one of four houses by a sentient hat, based on your strengths and weaknesses. Gryffindors tend to be brave, but can be reckless, Ravenclaws tend to be clever, but often seem socially awkward, Hufflepuffs are hardworking and loyal, but sometimes are seen as dim, which isn't the case at all, while Slytherins are cunning and ambitious, but can seem cold to those just looking at the surface. Charlus and I were Gryffindors, Dev was a Ravenclaw, and Dorea was a Slytherin. My older brother, Phillip, was a Hufflepuff.” 

“I had forgotten that you have a brother.” He was a bit curious as to why he did not live with them as well, but figured that it wasn't anything bad.

“Yes. He's not quite two years older than me. He's an Inspector up in Newcastle. He got married a few months back. We either call or owl each other every couple of days.” 

“I wish I knew what happened to my sister. She was a year younger than me. We got split up when my father died.” He hadn't seen her since she was six or seven. 

“How old _are ___you? I know you're younger than me, but I don't know by how much. I knew someone by the same surname as you, but she was about six years younger than me, since she was a first-year when I was a seventh.” She was looking as though she were trying to figure something out.

“Twenty-five. Her first name was Siobhan, but my parents usually called her by her middle name, Julia.” 

“Sweet Merlin,” she said in an astonished tone. “Yes, I know her. Quite well, actually. She was in the same house as me, and I tutored her in Potions her first year. I lost contact with her after I graduated for a couple of years, but…” She bit her lip, trying to decide how to best say what was next. She took a deep breath. “She's Phillip’s wife. I’ve got some pictures upstairs. I can go get them if you’d like.” 

“Please.” He had wondered about his sister for years, if she had done well, if she was happy wherever she wound up. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” She smiled at him, and went out to go upstairs. 

A few minutes later, she came back down with a photograph album. She sat down next to him and opened the album. On the first page was a girl of about seventeen or eighteen with a younger girl. They were sitting at a table in a library, poring over a thick book. 

“Charlus took that picture and gave us each a copy.” 

“Was her hair still red, like it was when we were children?" 

Carrie nodded. “It’s darkened to auburn as she's gotten older. We got back in touch her fifth year. She and Phillip met at a party that Bilius Weasley threw two Christmases back, and got married in March.” She turned the page. 

Eventually, they got to a picture of a girl in her early twenties, standing arm-in-arm with a tall, lean, dark-haired man. Peter noted that he had the height and slim build that their family appeared to all share, as Carrie was maybe at most a couple of centimetres shorter than him. Even Everett, who was several inches taller than him, had the same slim build. 

To Carrie, looking at the picture of her sister-in-law, and then at the man sitting next to her, it seemed so _obvious ___now that they were related. Though there were differences, they had the same eye colour, similar build, and shared a few facial features. “I can call them if you want me to.”

Peter started laughing. “Maybe tomorrow. I don't think that I could handle one more thing today. Besides, didn't you say that Endeavour was coming by.” 

“I did, didn't I? I got so wrapped up in getting that album…” She laughed. “I figure that he’ll probably be by within the hour. He knows that Everett is usually the one cooking on Saturday, so it will actually be edible. I'm a decent cook, but Dale could probably ruin cereal. I actually think Everett had stuff laid out for soup earlier.” She smiled at him, then said, “He always cooks it for us when one of us is sick or has had a bad day, and sometimes for no reason at all.” 

Peter nodded. This whole weekend so far had been both wonderful and terrible at the same time. While he still felt pretty awful, he liked to think that maybe the worst was over, he had learned more about Carrie, and had found out that his sister was well, apparently happy, and married to Carrie's older brother. 

* * *

True to Carrie's prediction, Endeavour arrived about an hour later, standing awkwardly in the doorway to the bedroom before sitting down in the chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked. 

“Better than I was earlier. Still bloody awful, though. I keep trying to apologise for the inconvenience, but no one will hear of it.” 

“They wouldn't, because they don't see it as an inconvenience. They see it as they would rather have you here, where they know that you're being cared for, rather than being alone and being ill. To them, that is an appalling concept.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I would have told you about being a wizard if I could have.” He pulled his wand out of a concealed pocket on his trousers. “I have only used magic a handful of times at work, usually to protect someone else if I see the danger soon enough.” 

“I found out that Carrie’s brother is married to my sister.” 

Endeavour looked slightly taken aback. “Julia is your sister?” He passed a hand over his eyes. “That seems so _obvious ___now.”

"Carrie _knows ___,” Peter suddenly said, changing the subject.

“I know,” Endeavour replied. “That's the only thing I could imagine Amy seeing that would upset her so much. Charlus also called me to see if I knew what happened to get Carrie so upset that she would go out on the training court and take out nearly two dozen practice dummies in less than an hour. I just said that while I thought I might know, I was not absolutely certain.” He gave Peter a wry look. “Tuesday should be interesting.” 

“I expect so. I wonder how long it'll take Sanderson to say something foolish. I'm going with less than twenty minutes." 

“I’ll be surprised if he makes it ten minutes. Sit with Jim and me Tuesday. Carrie's going to be covering a lot of material, and it might save your life to actually understand it." 

“I’m starting to get the impression that there’s a lot that I don't know.” 

“You don't know the half of it,” Endeavour remarked wryly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling that a sarcastic, BAMF! Carrie will show up at some point, since I mention in a story set about thirty years later that she cannot abide stupidity. 
> 
> *dodges flying objects, rotten fruit, and the occasional rubber chicken*


	5. Monday and Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Monday and Tuesday. Carrie comes to the station, some things suddenly make sense for Thursday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just keep all prior trigger warnings in effect for a while, okay? Also trigger warnings for a momentary mention of blood, a panic attack, and death mentions. 
> 
> I think I tend to end chapters in a weird places sometimes, but if I ended them at any other point, it would throw of the flow of subsequent chapters, I think.
> 
> paternal!Thursday FTW. 
> 
> The surname Muldoon is a nod to a police comedy from the early 1960s. 
> 
> Sanderson is just a typical idiot. Not really a bad person per se, just someone with a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease.

On Monday morning, Carrie was shown into Bright’s office, where he and the inspectors were waiting. 

After a brief and polite introduction to everyone, she was shown around the station, and the mandatory meetings and classes for the next day were announced. 

“These classes are to be attended by everyone,” Bright had announced. “They will start at eight, break for lunch at one, reconvene at two, and dismiss at seven. Other stations will handle our duties during that time.”

Quite a few of the officers looked at each other in confusion and concern, completely unaware of what these mandatory meetings and classes were about. Jim, Peter, and Endeavour looked at each other with polite interest. Thursday caught their looks at each other, but chose to say nothing at that time.

_They’ve been acting oddly for the past few months, ___Thursday thought to himself. _What they do outside of work is none of my business, but Morse and Jakes haven't been sniping at each other lately, and Strange has been… strangely cordial with Jakes. They’ve both been unusually solicitous with Jakes today when they think nobody's watching except me, and he’s paler than usual, like he's getting over an illness. ___He gave a mental shrug. _Morse and Jakes are both very close mouthed about their private lives, and Strange comes across as an open book, but I don't think that's quite the case. I’ll ask them about it when we're alone. ___That decided, he returned his attention to the room around him, in particular the young lady in the dark green dress addressing the gathered officers. She reminded him of someone, though he could not immediately recall who.

* * *

Thursday waited until he was assuredly completely alone with the other three men before he started asking questions. 

“While I am glad that the three of you appear to be getting along so well,” he began in a dry tone, figuring that addressing them as their friend, rather than their boss, would be the best choice. “I am just wondering what is going on, and how the three of you have went from barely tolerating each other to appearing to actually be friends once you know what to look for.”

Endeavour, Jim, and Peter glanced at each other, Endeavour taking in a breath to speak. “We’ve actually been friends for several months, since I was cleared of killing Standish,” he said quietly. 

“I needed someone to talk to about...,” Peter took in a shaky breath, but was fortified when he felt Jim’s hand on his shoulder and saw Endeavour giving him an encouraging look. “I was one of the boys. Endeavour, and later Jim, didn't judge me or pity me.”

Thursday looked horrified at finding out that Peter was one of the children that Wintergreen, Deare, and their sordid crew had treated so horribly. It caused a pang in his heart as the paternal part of his nature wanted to shield him from further harm. He suppressed a shudder, instinctively knowing that it might be misinterpreted, when it was really a sort of sympathetic horror at the idea of Peter having had to work with and be in the same room with someone who had done those things to him and being unable to say anything about it. There was just something extremely wrong about that. Instead he nodded, longing for the solace of his pipe. 

“Secondly,” Thursday began after a moment, “have you been ill, Peter? You look far too pale.” His tone was one of sincere concern.

Peter didn't immediately answer, so Endeavour nodded. “He has,” he said calmly, ignoring the half-hearted glare that had no malice behind it. “All weekend. In fact, Carrie attempted to discourage him from coming in today, and only backed down when he promised to take it easy. She _will ___hold you to that, you know,” he added, smirking at Peter.

“Carrie? The...auror…that was here earlier? You know her? 

“Endeavour probably knows her the best,” Jim piped up. 

Endeavour shot Jim a significant look. “Sir,” he took a deep breath, then went on, “I am a wizard. Carrie and I have known each other practically since birth.” He pulled his wand out of the concealed pocket on his trousers and laid it on the desk. “Ebony with a unicorn hair core.” He shot Peter a subtle smile. “Carrie's is cedar with a thestral hair core. Peter’s recovering from a very bad physical reaction to having his mind accidentally invaded by a four-year-old who came into her mental abilities unexpectedly. Carrie's family is best known for their abilities in mental magic and in potions."

Peter was still bothered by the fact that Amy had seen what had happened to him at Blenheim Vale, though Carrie and Everett had assured him that she would learn how to compartmentalise the things she saw, and to live with them, as they had done when their own abilities had kicked in. Amy was a sweet-natured child, though. As he had left to go home the evening before, the little girl had shyly hugged him, gently tugging him down by his coat sleeve so that she could kiss him on the cheek. He had learned that Carrie’s family, at least all that he had met so far, were all very affectionate with each other. He wondered how Julia had adjusted to that aspect of their behaviour. He kept putting off actually permitting Carrie to contact Phillip and Julia, which she respected to an extent, though she had said that she was definitely dropping a hint in her next owled letter to them, which he planned to tell her that he was ready to do. If they caught on, that would gradually get things moving towards actually meeting each other. By that time, he would perhaps be closer to ready to meet the sister that he had not seen in close to twenty years. It wasn't that he _didn't_ want to see her, but, if he were being honest with himself, he was afraid of too many things to easily put into words.

“I would guess that would be difficult,” Thursday observed, figuring that someone else wandering around in your head, even accidentally, would be bound to give you a bit of a turn. He then turned to Endeavour. “Have you ever used magic in relation to a case?” It was more of a question of curiosity than condemnation. 

“Only twice, sir,” Endeavour replied. “Both were protection charms. One was a shielding charm on a child. The other was under more...grim...circumstances.” He took a deep breath, then plunged on. “While Carrie's visions of possible futures are sometimes blurry and vague, they are consistently accurate if they are allowed to unfold with no outside interference. If I had not interfered in that case, the other person would have died that night." 

Thursday was adept at reading between the lines, and he nodded, catching what Endeavour was _not_ saying. Then the proverbial lightbulb turned on for Jim. “Holy shit,” he said under his breath. 

It took Peter a moment to catch on. “When?” He looked completely startled by the revelation. 

Endeavour drew in a deep breath and met Peter’s eyes, making the decision to set up some context before actually answering the question. “Whenever possible, Carrie will show her visions to the people that they concern, if she knows them, because anything that hasn’t happened yet can be changed. They often have a blurry, foggy, dream-like quality, so sometimes people are hard to identify, especially if she has never met them, or doesn’t know them well. She showed me a vision of what would have happened had you left the pub separately from me the night I went...there. Some of Deare’s men were planning to take you out on your way home, and make it look like an accident. I put a protection charm on you as I left, and put a locking charm and a ward on the door to make doubly sure that you didn't leave the pub that night, and that nobody with malicious intent towards you could get in. Carrie's department took care of the men, since, as it involved a prophetic vision, and one of the men in the group was a wizard, it landed squarely in the wizarding domain, and resulted in one-way trips to Azkaban, the wizarding prison, for everyone in on it. Carrie doesn't yet realise that it was _your_ death that she prevented that night by showing me that vision, though I got to tell her that I succeeded in preventing the death that she saw. I asked Alastor Moody to redact your name on the documents, since you didn't know yet, and refused to tell Carrie when she asked. You'll know when she figures _that_ out.” 

Jim and Thursday looked stunned, and Peter didn't look much better. 

It was Thursday that spoke first. “How did you know that it was Peter in that case?" 

“Mostly the way that he sits and his general build, to be honest,” Endeavour replied. “That, and, when I began my way towards the pub that night, I started getting the strongest sense of Deja Vu, like I had seen this and done this before. Her visions only rarely have sound, but everything else was identical.” 

Thursday nodded, raising his eyebrows. Had it been any other group of officers, he would have been sure that he was being played a joke on, but it did explain some of why Endeavour seemed so otherworldly at times. It was because he really _was living in two different worlds._

* * *

Walking into the station the next morning, Thursday and Endeavour grabbed a table in the back and waited for Jim and Peter. They had decided that a table in the back would enable Endeavour and Jim to pass on information to the rest of them without attracting attention, plus be a good vantage point in observing the rest of the room. 

A few minutes later, Peter, then Jim, joined them at the table, watching as the room filled and people automatically separated into groups of four or five. Sanderson was sitting with the three men that Peter typically went to the pub with, though one of them, a David Muldoon, looked like he would rather be with another group. Peter had told Endeavour and Jim that Muldoon was probably the best out of the three, and, while he often made a great show of being somewhat dim, actually noticed a lot. Muldoon shot a shy smile at their group, then returned his attention back to the front of the room as Carrie called everyone to order. 

Perhaps reaching out to Muldoon would be a good idea.

* * *

“First off, I will give you this scenario,” Carrie said as she began covering fourth-year material. “You come to a crime scene. Before we even get out of the gate, this is absolutely a murder. The body doesn't have a mark on it, but they look as though they’ve been frightened to death. The only thing out of the ordinary to report is that the neighbours report having seen a flash of green light at the scene the night before. Now, what would you happened? "

“Some sort of electrical issue, obviously,” Sanderson sneered. 

Peter heard Endeavour say under his breath, “ _This_ isn't going to end well.” Jim had his eyebrows raised, his face schooled into an expression of perfectly innocent interest. Thursday was still regarding the three of them curiously, though they had promised to tell him the whole story of how they became friends, or at least fill in the blanks between what he had not already figured out, or they had been able to tell him the day before. They had assured him that they had actually been friends for the past several months, they had just wanted to keep it private to avoid drawing attention to themselves. 

Personally, Thursday was perfectly content to let Sanderson continue to dig an even larger hole for himself, as he had managed to do throughout the day. He had never much cared for the man and his inability to admit to the possibility of being wrong every once in awhile, and even Bright looked close to reaching out and strangling him. Carrie was _really_ starting to remind him of someone with her withering sarcasm in the face of Sanderson’s deliberate obtuseness, and the name was on the tip of his tongue, but it wasn't coming to him yet. He figured that it would probably come to him once he quit thinking about it. 

Carrie raised an eyebrow. “And _when_ , pray tell, have you _ever_ seen even an electrical explosion be _green_? Are they not usually some combination of white and yellow, or even possibly red?”

“Well, I…” Sanderson, in an unusually wise move, snapped his mouth shut. 

“Precisely. The killing curse is _always_ green, specifically a bright green. If one is coming at you, your only hope is to either be able to dodge it or to get something between you and it. In _any_ case where you even suspect that magic was used to commit a crime, _always_ keep an exit at your back."

* * *

“I’m going to give the four of you the same speech that I’ve given every group today, though I don't think it's necessary in this case,” Carrie said, smiling at Thursday, Jim, Peter, and Endeavour. “A boggart takes on the form of whatever the person in front of it fears the most. It is not unknown for the group that is rising to throw boggarts into muggle-populated areas. I don't know if it's for distraction, sick amusement, or what, but if I hear of _anyone_ mocking or harassing anyone about what they fear, even years after the fact, I will not hesitate to rip you up one side and down the other."

“How would we know for certain that a boggart is what we're dealing with,” Thursday asked. 

“It will _always_ take the form of the worst fear of the person in front of it. Now, if you were all wizards, you would somehow make the fear funny, since laughter is the best way to confuse a boggart. Since all but one of you are muggles, just realise and keep in mind that what you're seeing is _not real_. You might be able to surround it and confuse it, since it won't know whose fear to represent, but recognising that it’s only a representation of your fear is your best bet in a pinch.” She opened the rattling box.

Immediately, it took on the appearance of a rat as it passed in front of Jim, and a puddle of blood as it passed in front of Endeavour. “Ridikulus!” he shouted, pointing his wand at it. It immediately turned into a dancing bowl of gelatin. 

Passing in front of Thursday, it became his wife, still and silent on the ground, eyes open, but unseeing. He steeled himself, saying, “It’s not real. Win is fine at home."

It made for Peter, becoming first Deare, then Wintergreen, then several others, one after another. He looked panicked, breath coming in gasps, backing up against the wall and sliding down it. 

“Contain it, Dev!” Carrie said intensely, reaching for a vial of a calming draught. She had to give at least one person in every group one today, and she had made it exceedingly clear that it was not a weakness to need one, and that many adults could not handle a boggart. She deliberately crossed between Peter and the boggart on her way over to him, making it take on the form of a bird. 

She knelt down in front of Peter, cautiously laying a hand on his arm. “They're gone, Peter,” she said softly. “It wasn't real.” She was concerned about the genuine panic that she was starting to see. He was shaking, tears streaming down his face, and he didn't seem as though he were actually there. She flipped the lid off of the vial. “I need you to drink this for me.” She gently helped him to drink the contents of the vial, keeping a hand on his arm in order to keep him grounded. 

It took several minutes, but as the calming draught took effect, awareness returned to him, and he lowered his head into his hands, groaning in embarrassment. He was sure that he was the only one to have such a reaction to something that he _knew_ wasn’t real. 

“You have _nothing_ to be embarrassed about or ashamed of,” Carrie said, watching as Endeavour secured the crate containing the boggart with several spells. “I have had at least one person in every group react like that, or worse, and need a calming draught today. One man broke down and cried over a spider, and another had a complete breakdown over a ventriloquist dummy. Fears don't have to make sense, or even have any real logic to be real."

“She's right,” Thursday said. The name of the person that she reminded him of came to him. He wondered if she was any relation to Phillip Davis, an inspector that he didn't know very well, but had liked the few times he had met. The man had been getting married the last time they had dealt with each other, the same stupefied reverence taking over his face every time his bride-to-be was mentioned that still took over his when Win was brought up in conversation. “It doesn't matter if you know it can't be real or not, it’s still going to bother you.” He looked over as Jim nodded in agreement. 

“You were the last group today,” Carrie said. “I dismissed everyone as they came through, so if you want to go home, you can. I have to wait for Charlus or Dorea to meet me here to escort this little thing back to the Ministry, but you all can go on if you like."

Jim and Thursday both excused themselves at that point, but Peter and Endeavour both stayed. Endeavour because it had been some time since he had actually seen Charlus or Dorea, though he was godfather to their seven-year-old son, who Carrie was godmother to, while for Peter, it was a cross between curiosity and a desperate need to not be alone. He could tell that both Carrie and Endeavour understood, but, to their credit, said nothing.


	6. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation among most of the dramatis personae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly filler, but it is setting up the next story arc.

Peter didn't know what he was expecting when Charlus and Dorea arrived to take the boggart back to the Ministry, but this probably wasn't it. 

Charlus was a tall, slim man, maybe five centimetres taller than him, with dark hair that seemed to grow in every possible direction, while Dorea was petite, with dark auburn hair. They, Carrie, and Endeavour had obviously known each other for a very long time. With them was a slight boy who obviously was their son. He immediately crowed, “Carrie! Dev!” He raced up to them, first throwing his arms around Carrie's waist, then Endeavour’s. 

“Hello, Jamie,” Carrie replied, smiling. “Did you have fun with your mum and dad today?”

“Uh-huh!” The little boy nodded eagerly. “Muggle London is SO big! And there's people everywhere!”

“It is rather big, isn't it?” Carrie replied, crouching down to the boy’s eye level. “You get used to it, though.”

“Where are we now?” He looked up at his parents. 

“We’re in Oxford, Jamie,” his mother replied. “Remember that your father and I told you that Carrie moved to Oxford, and that Dev lived there too?”

The boy scrunched up his face in concentration, then nodded. He then saw Peter, gave a broad grin, marched up to him, stuck out his hand, and said, “I’m James Potter, but you can call me Jamie.”

Peter gravely shook the boy’s hand and introduced himself, a bit surprised at how outgoing the boy was. Satisfied with the acknowledgement, Jamie went a few feet away and pulled out a small action figure on a broom and started playing with it. 

“How did your group go, Carrie?” Dorea asked. 

“Pretty well,” she replied. “Most everyone seemed to be paying attention, and were interested. I only see one or two possible problems, but once they actually deal with a situation where magic was used, I think it will take care of itself.”

“Do you actually think this is going to work?” Charlus asked. “Things have a potential to get very messy if it doesn't.”

“I do, as long as Alastor is in charge. He doesn't assume that muggles are idiots, like some of the pureblood families do.” Her tone was weary, as though the attitude frustrated her to the point of exhaustion. “I suspect that some of those families are aiding the group that is perpetrating some of the crimes against muggles that we’ve been seeing an increasing number of over the past couple of years.”

“Alphard sent me a message.” Dorea sounded worried. “He thinks his brother and sister and their spouses are helping to fund it. He pretends to be an eccentric hermit to keep me informed. That, and he has no intention of ever marrying, especially to their specifications. We can't do anything unless they do something outright, which they’re smart enough to avoid doing, but it’s good information to know.” She sounded slightly bitter. “I’m glad I got out. I left the day I turned seventeen, and never looked back.”

Carrie nodded, and Peter noticed that Endeavour's mouth tightened in something resembling disgust. “The Blacks are probably one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world,” Endeavour explained to Peter. “Most of them are also pureblood fanatics.”

“ _One_ of the most powerful is right,” Charlus remarked. “Carrie is a descendant of two families that are just as powerful, the Lathams and the Sparrows, though the Sparrows are almost extinct.”

“And my family always felt that the inbreeding among the British purebloods, especially over the past couple of centuries, is incredibly short-sighted and foolish. No new blood means that the gene pool gets smaller and weaker over time. Besides, my father was a muggle, my cousins’ mother was a muggle, and one of my closest friends is a muggleborn wizard. It’s pretty safe to assume what my views on the issue are. While I don't think it would be a good idea to have the wizarding and muggle worlds be completely open at this point in time, if ever, due to safety concerns and prejudice on both sides , I also think that we as a group have no business harassing muggles, or espousing the belief that we are somehow superior simply because we can do some things they can't.”

Peter could see the logic in that. He finally spoke up. “It makes you think of racism, in a way.” It really did remind him of it, he just hoped that it didn't sound too stupid to say it out loud. 

“True,” Charlus agreed. “It certainly is just as foolish and short-sighted. Whether your parents had magic or not, or belonged to this family or that has no bearing on magical abilities. By that logic, Dorea and I should have had a far easier time in school and in learning magic than Carrie, a halfblood by British definition, or Dev, a muggleborn by any definition. Instead, they soundly beat us in every subject, usually by several points.”

“That logic makes no sense,” Peter agreed. 

“It may make some things easier, as far as being taken seriously in society goes,” Endeavour said quietly, a slightly impatient tone creeping into his voice, “and it might be easier to know the cultural expectations going in, but that's true in any case.” Peter knew that Endeavour had no patience with people who thought that their social status exempted them from observance of the law.

“That's a good point,” Charlus conceded. He looked at his watch. “We need to get that boggart back to the Ministry and checked back in before nine. Is this it?” He indicated to the locked crate, which was rocking slightly. 

“It is,” Carrie replied “Do you need me to come with you?”

“No. I know you don't have to pick anything up. I have to pick up some documents from Eugene Cummings over in Finance. Alastor will want your report tomorrow morning, and probably to meet with you before you go to your next station, but beyond that…” He shrugged. 

“I’ll see you Thursday evening, then?” Carrie asked as Charlus took the crate, and Dorea collected Jamie and his toys from where he stood jabbering enthusiastically at Endeavour about Quidditch, a sport that she knew Endeavour could barely manage to feign a passing interest in, though she herself loved the sport, and had been a beater on her house team. 

“Thursday evening at the same time,” Charlus agreed, then left with his wife and son.

* * *

“May I walk you home?” Peter asked hesitantly. He was gathering up his courage to ask her to attempt another date with him. Endeavour had smiled encouragingly at him, then made himself scarce, as though he knew what Peter was thinking. 

“I drove here, but I can drop you off on my way if you want.”

“If it's not too much trouble.” He didn't want to inconvenience her by making her drive out of her way. 

“I wouldn't have offered if that had been the case.” She probably would have offered anyway, but would have been more likely to accept a token refusal. 

Walking out into the car park, she looked around to see if anyone else was watching, then spun around, laughing up at the stars. “I love the stars,” she said, smiling at Peter. “When Phillip and I were children, we would go to North Carolina for a couple of weeks every summer. My cousins and I would play outside under the stars, or my great-grandmother or her brother would tell us stories.”

“It sounds like a good childhood.” He only vaguely remembered life before his father had died and his mother had given up. Then so much had happened that he locked those few half-remembered things away. He only vaguely remembered what either of his parents even looked like. 

“It was,” she responded wistfully. “My mother died when I was thirteen, my father when I was seventeen.”

“I’m sorry.” He knew that she had only previously mentioned her parents in a vague sense, but did not realise that they were no longer living. 

“I’m just glad for the time I had with them,” she replied as they stood outside her car. “My mother died suddenly of an aneurysm. My father's death was expected, as he had been unwell for some time, but you're _never_ truly ready, even when you see it coming.”

Peter nodded in agreement as he opened the car door for her. As he got in, he asked “What sort of hint were you planning on giving Phillip and Julia?”

“Just something to the effect of saying that I stumbled across something that she’s been seeking for a long time. Nothing _too_ overt. I'm not going to push either of you into making contact right off. Nearly twenty years is a long time to have no contact with someone, and you two will have to learn what works for you as far as a relationship goes.”

That was a degree of sensitivity that he had not been expecting. He got the impression that Carrie and Phillip were very close, as she had previously said that they made some sort of contact with each other at least every couple of days. “You and your brother seem very close.”

“We are.” She started the car. “He already suspects that I am not telling him something, so I assured him that it wasn't something bad, or that he really needed to be worried about.” She smiled wryly. “Sometimes it's a little scary when we finish each other's sentences, or when one of us says what the other is thinking, but I'm glad to have him.”

“I hope I’m not causing any issues between the two of you.” He didn't think that he could stand that. 

“You're not,” she replied, laughing softly. “Phillip just knows me so well that he often catches what I _don't_ say just as often as what I _do_ say. He’s incredibly patient, though, and knows me well enough to know that I _would_ tell him if it were something truly bad or troubling.” 

Peter nodded. He was curious as to what that was like, having someone who knew you so well that you didn't have to say anything, but they still heard you all the same. Endeavour, and frequently Jim, could read him pretty well most of the time, especially after the past several months, but it wasn't quite the same, and he still wasn't quite used to anyone _really_ caring if he were alright beyond him being alive. 

The rest of the ride was fairly quiet, though it was a companionable silence, rather than one that either of them felt pressured to fill, which Peter realised that he could get used to. 

As she turned down the street, Peter took a deep breath, gathered up what courage he possessed, and asked, “Would you consider another attempt at a date?”

Carrie smiled, then said, “Yes. When?” 

“This Friday at seven?” He was still giving her an opportunity to back out if she decided not to bother. 

“That sounds like a good idea.” She knew that he was giving her a chance to back out gracefully, but she was not interested in backing out. “I’m planning on owling Phillip and Julia tonight. If they respond by then, I’ll let you know.”

“Would you call me if they do?” He somewhat hoped they would, not just to find out if they picked up on Carrie’s hint, but also as an excuse to talk to Carrie again before Friday. 

“I will.” She pulled a pen and paper out of her bag, and he wrote his number down on it. Ordinarily, it would be the other way around, he realised, but she held the most cards in this situation. 

As he went into his flat, the events of the past week and a half seemed to catch up with Peter, and he barely managed to find something edible and get ready for bed before crashing completely.


	7. A Day of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What starts off as an ordinary day rapidly becomes anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for dead bodies, blood, disturbing images, and near-death of a child. 
> 
> I wish to thank @jeeves-the-consulting-detective on tumblr for the suggestion on Morse's patronus that I ultimately went with. Although I loved all the suggestions, this one fit the best. 
> 
> I love you guys that read, subscribe, lurk, leave kudos, reviews, etc. , I love you all.

Carrie rubbed her ears as the shrieking red envelope exploded. She certainly had not been expecting _that_. While she knew that neither her brother nor her sister-in-law were intellectual slouches, she had not expected them to catch on to her carefully-worded hint in such a _spectacular_ manner. She _certainly_ had not expected to receive a howler the morning after she had sent her owled letter to Phillip and Julia. 

She would definitely have to call Peter to tell him that they had figured it out right away. Julia was wanting to come down to see her brother immediately, but Phillip had managed to convince her to slow down a little, perhaps speak to Peter on the phone a couple of times, and _then_ talk about meeting with each other. Julia was understandably eager to see her brother, but understood that it would take time for them to get used to each other and decide how they wanted their relationship to play out. 

She decided that she would call Peter that evening, at about the time he typically got to his flat. Today was a short day for her, unless something drastic happened that necessitated her going out into the field. She just had to meet with Moody to discuss how her first station went, and any changes she thought were necessary, then get caught up on her paperwork, then pay a visit to her next station before she went home. 

Dale, Everett, and Amy had regarded the howler that assaulted their breakfast table with interest. For Dale and Everett, it put together some pieces they had been curious about, but were too polite to ask, while for Amy, it had raised some questions that they had to word the responses to very carefully. While Amy was a highly intelligent and precocious four, almost five-year-old, it was a sensible thing to keep explanations age-appropriate. 

That decided, she put her files and books into her bag, then apparated to the street outside the Ministry.

* * *

There was a body in the woods, and it was making even seasoned officers queasy. The manner of death was one never before seen, though undeniably messy. 

“Don't look,” Peter ground out as Endeavour came down the hill. 

“What?” He looked over at Peter, and fortunately not at the body at the base of the hill. 

“Don't look. I'm wishing I hadn't,” he replied between clenched teeth, trying to keep his stomach under control. Even Thursday looked vaguely revolted. DeBryn looked to be a cross between irritated and intrigued as to how the manner of death was even physically possible. 

The body was lying at the bottom of the hill, limbs splayed in all directions. There were blood and entrails everywhere, some even flung into the branches of nearby trees, but no visible way for them to have been removed from the body. The frozen expression on the male victim's face was one of absolute terror. 

“There is _no_ possible way that this death was normal by any definition,” DeBryn was saying to Thursday. “There are no visible holes through which,” he looked up as a couple of officers broke away from the group to throw up, “the internal organs could be removed.” He looked over as Endeavour displayed the sense enough to sit down, pointedly avoiding looking at the scene. 

“So you're saying that we ought to call Auror Davis?” Thursday asked him. 

“I certainly would. I suspect that this is more her domain then ours.” He was regarding the body with a disturbed curiosity. He definitely wanted to understand what had happened here, and would feel _much_ better when the perpetrator was off the streets.

* * *

“So, how _did_ your date go? I never got the chance to ask.” Dorea and Carrie were eating lunch in her office. 

Carrie sighed, then raised her eyebrows. “Let’s just say that the immortal Murphy and his law certainly made an appearance.”

“Oh dear. So it didn't work out?” Dorea was concerned for her friend. Since her last serious relationship had fallen apart several years before, mostly because Bilius’ pride and lack of maturity at the time, though they had managed to become friends again a few years later, ultimately deciding that they were better off as friends, Carrie had rarely dated. She had hoped that this one would go better, since the man was already friends with Endeavour. 

“No, I would say that it worked out, since we are going to try again on Friday, it was just a bad experience for him, and I felt pretty bad for him when all was said and done.” She was fiddling with her fork, something Dorea knew she only did when she wasn't sure what exactly she was feeling, or having trouble putting what she was feeling into words. 

“What happened? Also, was that him last night? He seems alright enough. James certainly thought so. He’s rarely quite _that_ outgoing.”

“To answer your second question, yes, that was him. As to what happened, he spent the whole weekend terribly ill because Amy came into her mental abilities, and he happened to be the person that she was focused on when it happened.” She was tapping the fork on the table now, a nervous habit that she often displayed when she knew more than she was willing or able to say.

Dorea winced in sympathy. While she had never actually _seen_ a reaction to unexpected mental contact, especially of the variety that the Lathams were known for, which was a particularly uncommon variety, she had heard stories from Carrie of what happened when her abilities, as well as her older brother's and many cousins’, began to show. “What did Amy see, if you are alright with saying? I know you went out and took out almost two dozen practice dummies after our meeting with Moody, and I _know_ Dev knows why, though he told Charlus that he wasn't certain.” She looked sternly at her friend. “Also, you only do that when you are either scared, angry, or both, and since you're still talking to him, I would guess that it was something that happened to him at some point in his life that Amy saw, not something that he did.”

Carrie sighed. “Dev is trying to protect Peter’s right to privacy. _He_ should be the one to decide who, what, and how much he tells. It was pretty bad, though, and it _is_ related to the mess Dev was in a few months back.” 

Dorea’s eyes widened, and she dropped her fork on the table. “Sweet Merlin. What else happened?” She narrowed her eyes. “You're rubbing your ears the way you always do after you get a howler.”

“You absolutely _cannot_ tell a soul, not even Charlus. Dev knows, because Peter told him Saturday evening.” 

“I won't. I can tell that it’s important.”

“You know how Julia wanted to find her brother before she married Phillip, but had no idea where to even begin to look?” At Dorea’s nod, she went on. “Peter is Julia’s brother. I sent Phillip and Julia a hint last night, and got a howler this morning.”

“I _knew_ there was something familiar about him! Even Charlus saw it. He and Julia have the exact same eye colour, and similar noses and cheekbones. I take it Julia was excited, and Phillip was doing that thing he does where he's so excited that he’s calm?”

“Right. Julia wanted to come down to Oxford right then and there, but Phillip talked her out of…” She jumped as her inbox started blaring as a new message came in. She yanked it out, scanning over it, looking more and more concerned the further that she read. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Dorea asked. 

“A body. Our first case in this collaboration.” She made sure that her wand was in its holster on her forearm, that her dress was straight, then grabbed her coat and bag. She took a deep breath. “Wish me luck, Dorea.”

Dorea smirked. “I think you’ll do just fine.”

Carrie rolled her eyes, then went to the apparition point.

* * *

Peter and Endeavour both jumped as they heard a loud crack behind them. They both turned to see Carrie walking down the hill towards their group and the crime scene. She and Peter both flashed half-smiles at each other, and Endeavour nodded in greeting.

“What do we have?” she inquired, striding up to Thursday and DeBryn. 

“We have an unnatural death,” DeBryn said. “Right over here.” He accompanied her to the body. 

As they came through the trees and to the body, Carrie pulled out her wand, just in case it was needed. Upon seeing the body, she began cursing sulphurously, throwing up multiple wards in order to protect the scene, as well as spells to counter and identity any curses, active and inactive. “I can give you an identity right off. His name is Alan Jordan, he’s thirty-three, and worked in the Financial Department of the Ministry of Magic. As far as I know, he has no family, so if you need a second person to identify him, I can call Eugene Cummings, his boss, here to confirm his identity. As to what happened to him,” she cast several spells on the body and the area surrounding it, recording the results in a red and gold notebook, “he was put under the cruciatus curse, and ultimately killed by an entrail-expelling curse.” She grimaced. “It’s a painful, and, as you can see, messy way to die.”

DeBryn nodded, a grim expression on his face, then they began the macabre task of gathering the remains and transporting them to the morgue.

* * *

“Yes, I can say with certainty that this is Alan Jordan.” Eugene Cummings looked very grim, twisting his wedding band around on his finger. “I last saw him when he clocked out yesterday evening, shortly before Charlus came for the papers he needed for the Bamburg case.” He ran a hand through his prematurely greying brown hair. He had considered Alan a friend, as they had been in the same house, Slytherin, at Hogwarts, and he had been the best man at his first wedding, an arranged marriage to another pureblood witch, Eleanor Parkinson, who had died giving birth to a daughter less than a year later, as well as his second wedding to Alyce Bridges, with whom he had three additional children. 

“Was Mr. Jordan involved in anything that you are aware of that would have posed a danger to him?” Thursday asked. 

“He was investigating rumours of embezzlement in the Legal Department. He mentioned as he left last night that he had stumbled across something that I, as head of the Financial Department, needed to see. We agreed to meet at nine A. M., and I became concerned when he failed to show up.” Though he was only a couple of years older than Endeavour and Carrie, he had a perpetual careworn look about him, and his eyes looked very old, especially in these grim circumstances. 

“Do you have any idea what Mr. Jordan wanted to show you?” Carrie asked. She was only _just_ managing to remain professional, as she knew and was friends with everyone involved thus far. 

“Not specifically, but he did say that it would blow the case wide open. I’ll have to go through his papers and his pensieve to find anything concrete, though.” He looked over at Carrie. “Do you want me to bring the pensive here or to your office at the Ministry?”

“Here. This crime was committed in a muggle jurisdiction and called in to a muggle station. I will send word to Alastor on what is going on.”

* * *

While Carrie and Thursday were interviewing Eugene, Peter and Endeavour were interviewing people who lived near the area that the body was found, in case any of them had seen or heard something . So far, they weren't having much luck. Nobody that they had asked so far were able to report having seen or heard anything out of the ordinary that night. 

That rapidly changed as they drove to the last house, the one bordering the woods closest to where the body was found. 

Immediately after exiting the car, both Peter and Endeavour were struck by a sense of foreboding. Something just wasn't right here. Endeavour glanced over at Peter. “Something is very wrong here. It’s far too quiet.” He slid his wand out of the concealed pocket on his trousers. Since the body this morning was killed by magic, and Peter now had some knowledge of magic, he was less reluctant to use magic in front of him if necessary. 

Peter nodded, making the decision to follow Endeavour's lead in this situation, as he was considerably more familiar with magic than he was.

Approaching the house, that sense of foreboding grew. When Endeavour knocked on the door, it swung open. The two of them looked at each other, then slowly entered the house. 

Walking into the foyer, then through to the living room, the sense that something was wrong grew. 

That feeling was confirmed as they came around to the front of the couch. 

Three bodies, two adults and a child, apparently dead, and the adults had been for at least a day. Endeavour felt his vision dimming and nausea mounting, but he felt Peter shaking his shoulder, so he decided to focus on that instead. 

The tableau in front of Peter was disturbing and gruesome, and he desperately wanted to be sick himself, but he knew that he needed Endeavour conscious and focused on something other than the three apparently dead people in front of them, so he shook his shoulder until Endeavour was focused on him. “We need to call this in,” he said tightly. 

Endeavour nodded. “Killing curse, at least on the adults.” He cast a spell, and a silvery raven came out of his wand. “Carrie, we are at the house closest to the scene from this morning. There are three bodies.” His voice was shaking. “Two adults and a child.” The raven flew off, and Endeavour and Peter, by mutual decision, decided that it was in their best interests to wait outside. 

Outside by the car, Endeavour lowered his head into his hands. “I knew them,” he said hoarsely. “So did Carrie. Roger and Lena Dunbar and their daughter Alice. Their son, Isaac, started his first year this year.” 

“Is there any connection between them and the victim from this morning?” Peter asked.

Endeavour thought for a moment. “Yes. Carrie knows all of them. I knew Alan because he and Eugene were friends with Phillip, although not very well. Roger and Lena were also the same year as Phillip, and…” he trailed off as a thought struck him, and an expression somewhere between worried and horrified crossed his face. “Peter, it _may_ just be a coincidence, but all of the male victims were romantically involved with Carrie at some point or another, if only briefly. Roger, very briefly our fourth year, Alan, most of our sixth year. Bilius is obsessed with wards almost to the point of paranoia, and definitely has an alibi for last night, but it would be worth checking on him for his own safety.”

Peter nodded, lighting up a cigarette. “If you don't mind me asking, was there ever…”

“No. Carrie is like a sister to me. I was not exaggerating when I said that we have known each other practically since birth. She’s a few weeks older than me, but our mothers had become friends while they were pregnant with each of us.” He gave Peter a sidelong look. “I’m more worried about _your_ safety. If I can draw that conclusion, it probably _isn't_ a coincidence.”

Peter looked at him, starting to say something else, but a silvery lizard made its way to them, speaking in Carrie’s voice. “Put up a precautionary ward around the house, then get in the car, both of you, and put wards around it. _Do not lower them until we get there, and you verify that it is indeed me talking to you._ You know what our question is, Dev, and I know you know how to erect basic wards. We'll talk further later.”

Peter watched as Endeavour performed a series of complicated-looking spells on the house, then followed him to the car, which he also performed similar spells on before they climbed in. 

Within ten minutes, Carrie drove up with Thursday. She immediately went over to the car, at which point Endeavour asked, raising his wand in a combative stance from behind the steering wheel, “On what day and where did your parents meet?”

Carrie smiled, then replied “The twenty-second of March, nineteen-twenty-two, at a general store on Gay Street in Knoxville, Tennessee.”

Endeavour lowered his wand in visible relief. “Carrie,” he said quietly, “it is Roger, Lena, and Alice.”

She reeled back a little, as though she had been struck. He had forgotten that Alice was her goddaughter. She recovered quickly, though, a professional mask slipping into place. “Lower the entry wards so that we can go in, Dev.” Her tone was sad and grim. 

Endeavour nodded and lowered the wards. 

Going into the house a second time, Peter observed more details. No evidence of a struggle, but the victims were killed by something that moved very quickly. Little, if anything, had been disturbed, at least on the surface. 

He saw an unopened letter on the table in the foyer. It had the name Caroline Davis on it as recipient. 

At the same moment that he called out to alert them of possible evidence and motive, Carrie cried out “She’s alive! Oh, Sweet Merlin, she’s alive! Dev, contact St. Mungo's, Alice is alive!” He stepped back as Endeavour raised his wand in the air, shooting a beam of red and white lights out of the end, and Carrie ran into the hallway, carrying a young girl. She laid her on her back, opening her bag and pulling several vials out of it. After performing several spells, a few of which Peter recognised from the previous weekend, she selected four of them and poured them into the child’s mouth. 

Within a minute, the child started gasping and coughing, taking wheezing breaths that began to grow more stable. As Endeavour showed the green-robed healers in, Peter discreetly pointed out the envelope to Endeavour and to Thursday. Thursday started to reach for it, but Endeavour stopped him, pulling a pair of gloves out of his pocket and putting them on. They appeared to be a type of leather, but both Peter and Thursday were unsure of what kind. 

Endeavour gingerly reached for the letter and opened it. Immediately, a thick greenish-yellow fluid that smelled strongly of petrol spilled out of it, coating the gloves. “Bubotuber pus,” he said by way of explanation. “It would have caused large, painful blisters on any skin it touches.” He pulled the letter out, as it had been protected by a charm, then opened it. 

The letter read, in obviously disguised block writing:

_My Caroline,_

_I will remove every impediment between us. Every person, every circumstance, I will push aside to have you._

_You have probably already figured out that Alice is still alive. I may be a lot of things, but a child-killer is not something I am. You have also probably figured out that I dosed her with the Draught of Living Death. You were always so clever._

_I will have you, and more shall die if you resist._

The letter was, unsurprisingly, unsigned.


	8. Meeting Bilius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are gathering information, and Peter side-along apparates for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly set-up, but things are coming together.

Carrie looked horrified as Endeavour and Thursday showed her the letter upon arriving at the station. Then her eyes filled with pain. She sighed, looking exhausted. All three bodies had been of people that she considered friends, and she had no idea how she was going to tell Isaac that he was now an orphan, and that his younger sister had almost died, and was still going to be ill for some time. Draught of the Living Death was not meant to be given to children, and whoever had given Alice the potion had only narrowly avoided giving her a lethal dose. 

“There are only three people who I suspect would do this,” she said distantly, as though trying to separate herself from something that would have most people wracked with emotion. Endeavour knew her well enough to realise that it wouldn't take much more to push her into an emotional breakdown. “Only one of them was I ever romantically involved with, Sergei Dolohov, and then only briefly.”

“I remember,” Endeavour said. “You slapped him in the middle of the Great Hall and told him that anything between the two of you was over after he called me a mudblood fifth year.” He glanced over at Peter and Thursday, then explained. “Mudblood is a slur used against muggleborns, or witches or wizards who have muggle parents.”

Carrie nodded. “I repeatedly turned down Egbert Mulciber because he was an arrogant bully, and refused Galen Flint because he has a reputation for cruelty.” She looked worried. “You might want to check on Bilius. While he is very paranoid about personal safety, wards can be breached if you know what you're doing.”

Endeavour nodded. He knew Thursday would have some questions for Carrie of his own. He looked over as Thursday spoke to him. “Morse, you and Jakes go speak with Mr. Weasley and see if he safe, and if he is, get as much information out of him as you can. Come back here as soon as you finish.”

Endeavour nodded an affirmative, then left the room, Peter following him.

Once they were out in the empty hallway, Endeavour asked, “Do you trust me? Diagon Alley is in London. I can get us there faster than if we drove. I also need to change what we are wearing so that we blend in once we get there.”

Peter nodded. “I trust your judgement in this. What are you going to do?”

“We’re going to apparate to London. Bilius has a flat in Diagon Alley above a bookstore. I need you to hold onto my arm, and not let go, no matter what. You will feel as though you're being squeezed through a tube, but that's to be expected.”

Peter nodded and gripped Endeavour's arm.

* * *

They came out in an alley near their destination. Endeavour looked at Peter in concern as he looked slightly dizzy and nauseous from apparating, as he had never done so before, but he quickly recovered. “You can't see it yet, but between those two buildings,” Endeavour indicated to two buildings across the street, “there is a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. We go through it to get to Diagon Alley.”

Peter nodded, then watched as Endeavour changed what they were wearing into dark robes. He raised an eyebrow, looked over at Endeavour, then back at the robes. He then followed Endeavour out of the alley and across the street. 

He sensed, more than saw, when they went between the two buildings and into the pub. Endeavour immediately went over to a brick wall and tapped out a pattern on it with his wand. It opened up into an archway, and Endeavour walked through it, Peter following him. 

Peter really didn't take much in as he followed Endeavour through the busy street to the bookstore. The entrance to the flat was up a steep flight of stairs. 

As soon as Endeavour knocked on the door, a voice called out, “Come in, Dev.”

When they walked in, a tall, thin man with red hair greeted them. “Sit down. I'm getting the impression that you're not just visiting. Now, what's going on?”

“You’re right,” Endeavour said. “We’re not just visiting.” He drew in a breath. “We’re actually here because Alan Jordan and Roger and Lena Dunbar are dead, and Alice is in St. Mungo’s.”

Bilius sat down hard on the ancient sofa. “When? How?” 

“Within the last day. As to how, I am not at the liberty to say.”

Bilius' mouth tightened at that. “Murder, then,” he said grimly, understanding what Endeavour was not saying. “You know that you will have to be the ones to go to Hogwarts to tell Isaac about his parents, right? As you haven't mentioned Carrie, I would say that she is probably not in a position to do so.”

Endeavour nodded, and Peter had the feeling that Bilius was saying something more than the actual words that were being said. He wondered exactly how close Bilious and Carrie were. He was aware that they had been involved romantically at one point, but beyond that, he drew a blank. 

“Do you know of some connection between the three victims?” Peter asked quietly. 

Bilius sighed. “All of them, the men anyway, were involved with Carrie at some point or another, though Lena was friends with Carrie and Phillip. They were all involved in Eugene Cummings' wedding to Alyce Bridges. We were all friends at Hogwarts. We are all against pureblood rhetoric.” He shrugged. “Depending on the circumstances, who you would suspect is different. I would check into Galen Flint or Egbert Mulciber. Sergei Dolohov has rejected pureblood philosophy, though not openly for his own safety.”

Peter nodded. Endeavour took that as his cue to ask some of the harder questions, as he actually knew the victims and the suspects. Instead, he chose to listen to what Bilius was saying in response to Endeavour's questions. 

“Do you want me to accompany you to Hogwarts when you go to tell Isaac about his parents?” Bilius finally asked. 

Endeavour shook his head. “That won't be necessary. We have to go back by the station before we go. Just be sure to keep this place warded, and owl me or send a patronus if you see anything suspicious or think of something that we need to know.”

“I know you're in a hurry,” Bilius said, “but can I get either of you anything? Some tea or pumpkin juice?”

“Please,” Endeavour said. “How about you, Peter?”

“I think we have enough time for that.”

After they had drank a cup of tea, Endeavour and Peter made their way back to the station to deliver their report to Thursday.

* * *

Thursday _really_ wanted his pipe after the events of this day. 

“I take it that you have the means to get to this school, in spite of it being in Scotland,” Thursday asked. 

Endeavour nodded. “I do, sir.”

“Take Peter with you, as Carrie is still discussing the autopsy results with DeBryn, then she is going to see the child.”

“I am Isaac's godfather,” Endeavour pointed out. “He will probably want to see his sister, but he would be safest either at Hogwarts or with Dale and Everett.”

“Do whatever you must in order to ensure his safety.”

Peter was simply observing Thursday and Endeavour interact. This was a whole new side to his friend that he had been ignorant of. 

As Thursday and Endeavour ended their discussion, Endeavour turned to Peter. “Are you ready?”

“I am.”

“Exactly like this morning, I need you to grab my arm and not let go, no matter what.”

Peter nodded, grabbing Endeavour’s arm, and with an audible *crack* they disappeared, leaving a stunned Thursday shaking his head.


End file.
